


Unbidden

by mind_and_malady, walrucifer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Samifer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 08:04:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2685380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mind_and_malady/pseuds/mind_and_malady, https://archiveofourown.org/users/walrucifer/pseuds/walrucifer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's alone and trying to sleep. Lucifer interrupts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unbidden

**Author's Note:**

> Kaitlyn is my coauthor because she beta's this for me. I love you.

Sam leans back against the pillows, eyes closed, and tries to let himself drift into sleep. Gentle, ice-cold fingers on his neck foil his efforts, and as he cracks his eyes open, a surprising sight meets him. The blankets have been cast aside into an untidy pile, and Lucifer is laying there, silent, eyes wide and curious. He’s laying on his stomach, propped up on his elbows, with a sheet covering the lower half of his body.  
“You’re not supposed to be here.” Sam sighs reprovingly. He’s moved beyond the point of fear; in its place is annoyance and resignation at the cold presence in his bed. Lucifer doesn’t reply, instead tilting his head and stretching out a hand to yet again brush his frozen fingertips against Sam’s skin. His eyes are curious, full of wonder, and his breathing is slow and even. Sam takes in a deep breath and releases it slowly, unflinching despite the frostbitten chill of Lucifer’s carefully wandering fingers.  
“I can touch you, Sam.” The blonde’s words are a soft exhale of exhilaration and delight, fingers trembling and pausing in their movements. He sits up, the sheet barely covering him, and it’s blatantly obvious that he’s naked. Sam looks away, half amused, half disgusted, a little mortified, and waits for him to say something else. When Lucifer remains silent, he nods, once, and watches the blonde for a reaction. Nick is a statue. Sam can sense the emotions warring in Lucifer’s mind, and wonders how he can keep so still under such a whirlwind of feeling. Slowly, wanting to distract him more than anything else, he reaches out.  
Like a cobra striking out, Lucifer snatches his hand and holds it gently, frozen skin quickly warming where it’s touching Sam. His breath is a stuttering staccato rhythm, short and uneven. He slides closer, curling up beside Sam, and gazes at him, watchful and silent. Lucifer’s closeness isn’t invasive to Sam’s privacy in any way, besides the occasional venture across his chest and shoulders with slowly warming fingertips. Despite the fact that he’s naked and clearly in need of physical contact, nothing is obscene or sexual about the situation; every move is carefully composed and orchestrated to perfection, eyes quietly but unmistakably depicting his thoughts, written out as effortlessly as ink on paper. Lucifer’s eyes are blameless, full only of affection and the need to protect, and Sam doesn’t have the slightest idea of how to react.  
“Why aren’t you flinching away from me?” Lucifer murmurs languidly, eyelids lowered, and props himself up on his elbows again, fist fitting neatly against the line of his jaw, head tilting to meet the angle.  
“I guess it’s just because… I’m not scared of you anymore.” Sam shrugs. “But I’m not going to say yes, if that’s what you’ve come for,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.  
Ancient blue eyes widen in surprise, and Lucifer’s lips tilt downward into a frown. He sits up, angling forward, and places two fingers underneath Sam’s chin, tilting his head upwards. Sam feels his breath catch, his whole body frozen. The moment feels like stumbling on a precipice, flooding him with uncertainty and fear, only inches away from tumbling over the edge and into oblivion.  
“I am selfish, Sam.” Lucifer growls, eyes narrowing, “but I am not a monster. I would never force you to accept my presence, or take you as my vessel by means of trickery. I’ll leave that to Gabriel.”  
He releases Sam, who takes a shallow breath and feels as though he’s regained his balance on that endless precipice. Lucifer snorts derisively. “If you believe that I’d ever trick or coerce you into saying yes to me, you’re misguided. I have no intention to use force or manipulation. The only yes I want to hear is a truthful one. I want you to truly want me. You’ll have to think about it, I presume. And I’ll take no for an answer as well.”  
Sam nods, silent, and lets his eyes drift shut. Silence encompasses them for a long while, thick and heavy. “I have a question,” Sam finally says, unable to bear the silence. He opens his eyes again to find Lucifer laying back down, on his back now with his arms at his sides, chest rising and falling shallowly. He turns his head slightly, looking up at Sam, and blinks once, inviting the question.  
“When you held my hand, your skin went all warm. Does that happen often, or is it just… now?”  
“It’s fairly new, yes.” Lucifer replies, thoughtful. Then he scratches at his cheek and continues, “I have a suspicion what it could be, but I’d rather show you. If you want to know, that is. Do you?”  
Sam nods, uncertain of what to expect. He certainly doesn’t expect what happens next. Long, cold fingers wrap around his wrist, and Lucifer traces gentle patterns and swirls into his palm with his fingernail, eyebrows raised. Startled, Sam pulls his hand away and stares at the blonde questioningly. Lucifer smiles and tilts his head.  
“I’m trying to warm up, Sam. If you’d like, you can always touch me without that precaution, and risk hypothermia,” he quips. Sam snorts, rolls his eyes, and drops his hand onto the archangel’s knee. Lucifer snorts as well, taking his hand, and holds it for a few moments more. Then he gently pushes Sam’s thumb away from his palm, opening his hand into a star (Sam smiles at the irony), and presses it against his chest.  
It’s cold, as Sam expected, but there’s something else, something that feels out of place. The way Lucifer is breathing is wrong, regularly spaced and thoughtless, as though he isn’t doing it on purpose anymore, like his body _needs_ to. Surprised, Sam looks up at him and raises a quizzical eyebrow. Lucifer jabs his chin forward. Startled, Sam moves his hand down. Small, muffled pulses meet his palm, punctuated by the occasional skip or flutter, and the realisation surprises him.  
“I didn’t know you…” he starts, only to trail off, and takes his hand from the blonde’s heart. Lucifer tilts his head, amused, and nods.  
“I’m afraid I’ve become what I never wanted to, Sam. If this is anything to go by, I am becoming human, if I haven’t already. And…do you want to know something?” he offers. Sam nods, quick and silent.  
“I’m scared of it.” Lucifer murmurs, eyes closed, and the confession feels monumental. “I’m scared of becoming human, I’m scared to call myself a _man_. I’m scared to die and I’m scared of falling so far from Father’s grace. And I’m terrified of losing my life and never seeing you again. I can’t imagine that Father would resurrect me.”  
Sam’s mind is reeling. His thoughts keep skipping on one part, the one after _I’m scared of losing my life_. Lucifer has never made his affection so obvious, and suddenly the situation seems much more awkward. He stiffens slightly, unable to stop himself, and Lucifer blinks at him, expression closing off.  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Lucifer apologizes. Sam waves a hand, brushing away the apology and forcing himself to relax a little. After a moment, Lucifer shifts so that he’s face to face with the hunter. Sam stays still, unwilling to alienate him, but not wanting him to come closer than he has to. With a shuddering breath, Lucifer brushes a strand of hair from Sam’s forehead, fingers quivering, and hooks two of them beneath the brunette’s jaw. Sam gapes at him, baffled, and then Lucifer kisses him.  
It’s nothing like what he expected. Lucifer is gentle and nearly soft, not dominating, not demanding. Sam doesn’t kiss back, but neither does he fight it; he simply accepts the gesture, the feel of the blonde’s lips on his, and when Lucifer leans back, he stares up at him questioningly.  
"I expected you to run away from me.” Lucifer admits. His honesty throws Sam off guard. Surprised, he looks at the archangel and shakes his head, even laughing a little under his breath. The idea feels preposterous, even if part him is quietly telling him that it’s what he should have done.  
“Why would I?” he asks instead. Lucifer smiles.  
“Why _wouldn’t_ you, Sam?” he asks, head cocked in puzzlement, eyes attentive and questioning. Sam doesn’t answer - he doesn’t have answer. Instead, he leans forward and fixes Lucifer with a stare. The blonde doesn’t flinch, doesn’t react in any way. He’s nothing more than a marble statue, until Sam experimentally moulds their lips together again. It’s far more daring than before, emboldened. For a moment, Sam swears he feels the blonde’s tongue glide over his bottom lip, but it’s still heartbreakingly tender and full of unspoken emotion and, on Lucifer’s part, the echo of old loss and the fear of loss to come. There’s so much that Sam feels like he needs to say, but he can’t find the words, can’t bring himself to move away. Instead, he fists his fingers into short blonde hair and deepens the kiss, ignoring Lucifer’s surprised mewls and gasps, trying to put every thought and feeling, every bit of intention he has, into the kiss. Lucifer accepts it all with startled gasps, and Sam has a feeling he wants more.  
Hesitantly, he pushes against the shorter man’s shoulders to get him onto his back, and Lucifer complies easily, without complaint. Sam slowly unbuttons his shirt, unhurried and honestly surprised at himself for enjoying the look of awe and something akin to arousal on Lucifer’s face. As the last button opens, Sam lifts Lucifer’s right arm gently, easing it out of the cloth, and drags the pad of his thumb over cool, surprisingly soft skin. The blonde squirms out of his shirt, not eagerly, simply helpfully, and Sam has to give it to him; he is patient beyond measure, with skill and a sense of timeless efficiency borne of aeons of waiting. Sam feels himself grow hard under the angel’s touch, and flushes when he sees Lucifer’s small smile.  
“Sam… you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” Lucifer whispers, lips altogether too close to Sam’s neck, and Sam shudders and exhales shakily. The elder man dips down and kisses the hollow of his throat, tongue gently poking out, tasting the fragile skin, lapping at the sheen of sweat that’s formed on his flesh. With a gasp, Sam pulls him down lower, in need of more. Lucifer lets his teeth graze gently, not biting, simply nipping and teasing, and he’s good. Sam whimpers and keens at his touch, enjoying it far more than he knows he should, but Lucifer is _real_ , and his actions suggest something like desire, like an almost human need for contact. He’s far better at this than any mortal man, but the urgency behind his touch, the way his hands tremble when he touches Sam, how he barely holds back, suggests that he has lost himself completely. Sam knows this is a man touching him. Lucifer is no longer an Archangel. He’s completely Fallen.  
Something dawns in the blonde’s eyes. Sam doesn’t notice it at first, but when he does, it is all the more shocking for him. Pure, unbridled love is reflected in Lucifer’s features, love purer than any human can feel, and Sam wonders if he’s heard his thoughts. He doesn’t care.  
Just as an afterthought, he thinks _Keep touching me, you’re good at this_. Lucifer looks up at him through his eyelashes, baffled, and bursts out laughing. Sam turns bright red, annoyed, and gasps as Lucifer kisses his stomach. His breath is hot on Sam’s skin, sending shivers up his spine and making him break out in gooseflesh. Hands shaking, Sam fists his fingers into Lucifer’s hair and pulls him down further. Lucifer is quick and direct and wastes no time in understanding. Fingers quivering, breathing harsh and ragged, he undoes Sam’s belt and button and slides his jeans down his thighs.  
Sam is rock hard, and by now, it’s beginning to hurt. He can feel the muscles in his core and thighs aching, his cock straining the seams of his boxers, and Lucifer is impatient and… confused. He doesn’t know what to do. Laughing weakly, Sam tilts his chin upward with two fingers and gazes into his eyes.  
“I thought you knew what you were _doing_.” he chuckles. Lucifer shrugs.  
Slowly, tentatively, he lets his tongue glide over the base of Sam’s boxers, teasing, testing. Sam exhales sharply and tries to force him down. Hesitantly, Lucifer pulls the rim of his shorts down, exposing him, and Sam can’t help but make a sound in the back of his throat that has Lucifer laughing out loud. He collapses over Sam’s stomach, gasping for breath, shoulders heaving, and Sam flushes angrily and smacks him upside the head. Timeless blue eyes gaze up into his, and he snorts and points down at his cock indicatively. Lucifer smirks, but he takes the hint.  
“I’ve never done this before.” He mutters after a minute of doing nothing. Sam slaps his palm onto his own forehead, exasperated, and sits up. Lucifer follows suit, eager to learn (Sam has a feeling he just likes hearing his voice). He starts explaining.  
“So, if you want to suck my dick, you have to… just _suck my dick_. There’s not much more to it. But don’t literally suck. Just lick, or kind of… nip. Don’t bite. Be gentle.”  
Lucifer is looking more and more confused by the minute. Finally, when Sam reaches _don’t literally suck_ , he huffs out loudly and shakes his head.  
Sam raises an eyebrow- he doesn’t appreciate being interrupted- and waves a hand in a _go on_ gesture. Lucifer, failing to catch the sarcasm, keeps going.  
“I know how to _suck guys off_ , Sam. I don’t know how to do this with _you_. I don’t know what to do with you. I don’t know what will hurt you or what you like.”  
Sam sighs softly and smiles. “I like kisses, for one,” he offers. Lucifer smiles back, leaning forward to drop a soft kiss on his forehead. Laughing, Sam tilts his head to the side and kisses the blonde on the lips. Lucifer slides forward, arm twining around Sam’s shoulders, and retaliates with another, rougher kiss. They roll over, Sam on Lucifer now, and tangle into a misshapen pile of limbs, all arms and legs and graceless, gangly lust. They’re like teenagers, awkward and expectant, and Sam loves every second of it. He can feel the blonde’s cool skin against his, hear the quick, harsh sound of his breathing, feel the slick of sweat on his skin, and it’s so perfect, because it shows that Lucifer isn’t invulnerable.  
Sam brushes a swath of short hair out of his face, kisses his cheek, and runs his nails up the elder man’s spine, leaving long red marks, the top layer of skin tearing slightly in several places. Growling, Lucifer rocks his hips upwards, annoyed and torn between pleasure and pain.  
Their bodies come close, and they meld, every dip and curve slotting together perfectly, muscles playing in tandem, no gaps between them, every millimeter of skin pressed tight. Heat flows between them; Lucifer is warm now, not as hot as Sam, but enough so to seem human. He slides over to Sam’s side and presses himself against the brunette’s arm, chin resting on his shoulder. Sam twists his neck and kisses him again, letting his tongue sweep over the inside of the blonde’s cheek, feeling the scars and sores there and tasting the metallic tang of blood and what he thinks might be toothpaste. Lucifer fists long fingers into his hair and pulls him closer, cheeks brushing against Sam’s, stubble scratching his skin. He hitches a leg over Sam’s waist, Sam’s cock pressing into his stomach, Sam breathing hard.  
“Just fuck me already!” Sam whines, and Lucifer smiles and kisses the tip of his nose.  
“Patience, darling.” He murmurs, voice deeper than usual and husky and sensual, and Sam feels his breath catch at the epithet. “Turn over.”  
Sam sits up and turns onto his back, head cocked to the side, waiting. Lucifer blinks slowly and shakes his head. “On your stomach.” He demands. Sam raises an eyebrow and purses his lips.  
“Doggy-style?” he asks, amused, and Lucifer bends forward and growls a soft “No, Sam” into his ear. Sam flushes and rolls his eyes.  
“Hold still.” Lucifer murmurs, eyes half-lidded, chest rising and falling rapidly, and pans his hands underneath Sam’s shoulders. Surprised, Sam looks up at him.  
“Changed your mind?” he asks. Lucifer merely nods, nostrils flared, shoulders flexing and biceps pulling, studying him, and sits up, legs spread, and pulls Sam close.  
“I’ll be gentle.” He breathes against the Hunter’s neck. Sam slides closer, and suddenly Lucifer is inside him, gentle and not at all dictating, steady, slow, resting his forehead on Sam’s shoulder, breathing hard and deep. He’s all tense muscle and sweat and heated flesh, and Sam can feel and hear his heart pound against his shoulder, rapid and fluttering like a bird’s. They fall into the bed, bodies tangled and limbs splayed, Sam bucking his hips and arching his back to give the blonde better purchase, Lucifer grinding into him with small, husky snarls.  
Finally Sam grows weary of the rhythm and rolls over onto his back, pulling Lucifer onto his waist, between his legs, and holds the blonde’s hands in place. Lucifer is impatient and needy, fucking him quick and hard now, waist and stomach clenched, cock aching. They’re like pieces of a puzzle, fitting together flawlessly, every dip and curve in their bodies melding together like they know each other, down to the cells and atoms. Sam whimpers as Lucifer methodically hits _that_ spot, driving him close to wild with need, and he’s surprised he’s holding out with how hard the blonde is fucking him. Lucifer’s hand is tight on his shoulder, holding him close, and Sam leans up to kiss the elder man roughly, loose and open-mouthed and messy in their need.  
After that, it doesn’t take long until Sam feels the impending pressure of his orgasm hit. It’s a dull ache in the pit of his belly, matching the one in his cock, so hard and swollen he can’t fathom how it’ll return to normal. Suddenly, behind him, Lucifer cries out, muscles bunching as his back arches, and the hot flow of come shoves him over that dizzying edge.  
His mind blanks; all he feels is _pleasure_ and raw, undiluted joy. When he comes back, Lucifer is curled close to Sam’s body, exhausted, spent, slick with sweat. He’s panting, chest caving with the violence of his breathing, and Sam smirks.  
“Was it that hard on you?” he asks, an edge of laughter in his voice. Lucifer glares, eyes no longer frost-kissed; they’re pools of blue magma now. Smiling, the brunette kisses his temple sweetly and lies down beside him, propped on his elbow, knuckles stabbing into his cheek, and gives a small snort of amusement. Small huffs leave the blonde as his breathing gradually evens, and after several more minutes, Sam shifts over and rests his head on Lucifer’s chest.  
The blonde purrs out his contentment, slow rumbling and vibrating mingling with the steady sound of his heart, and Sam smiles at the thought of curling up to a large cat. Something about Lucifer’s scent is different; as though the undertone of musk to pine and smoke has been added - even sweaty and spent, he smells good. Strong, pale hands find their way to Sam’s neck and play with his hair, idly fingering the strands and knuckling the nape of his back.  
“That was… surprising.” Lucifer admits, voice low and husky, and Sam sits up to better listen to his words, not his heart. Small creases appear next to Lucifer’s eyes. He leans forward, and kisses Sam again.  
“It was. But I wouldn’t say it was _bad_.” Sam sighs, resting his forehead against the blonde’s, and closes his eyes. “It wasn’t the best sex I’ve ever had in itself, but the end was pretty… mind-blowing.”  
Lucifer smiles, a warm, genuine expression, and kisses the brunette’s cheek.  
“Thank you.” He breathes. Sam lets out a small snort, and pulls the blonde back down.  
“We should sleep now.” He urges, enjoying the look of confused trepidation on Lucifer’s face. Eyebrows raised, Lucifer blinks slowly.  
“Sleep? We? What?” he demands.  
“Being human is hard work, angel.” He drawls, smirking. “You better get some rest, so we can… repeat that experience.”


End file.
